


Have Your Fill

by burlesquecomposer



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Bottom Eddie Brock, Come Eating, Holding Hands, Hungry Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Tentacle Sex, Tongue Blowjobs, fill in the blanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 10:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burlesquecomposer/pseuds/burlesquecomposer
Summary: EDDIE.“Yeah?”STOP TALKING.A buzz of dangerous excitement lights up Eddie’s nervous system like a whole damn Christmas tree, like the hum of a neon sign in the quiet rain, the fear of a lightning strike eclipsed by awe for the subliminal, earthly tremor of thunder’s echo. He smirks, lazy.“Make me.”When Venom purrs, the vibration radiates through his veins, his muscles and bones, his pores, the chambers of his heart, as if a satisfied lion were not merely sitting on his chest but residing in his ribcage.OR: Venom thinks "me time" is "we time."OR: Does it count as masturbation when your symbiote gets you off?OR: Teaching sex ed to your symbiote.





	Have Your Fill

**Author's Note:**

> thank you Sony for this gift of a film
> 
>  
> 
> (Venom uses he/him because Eddie uses he/him ❤)

Eddie isn’t all that ashamed to admit that nowadays he thinks about sex often. He didn’t used to—he had Anne, they had a schedule, he knew when they’d have their time, when she’d tie him to the bedpost and have her way, always whatever she wanted and far be it from him to argue, as he’d only loved to please her and he didn’t consider himself all that creative. But they’re not together anymore, and it’s one on a laundry list of things he didn’t realize he’d miss until suddenly they’re gone.

Sadly, Eddie’s not really into casual encounters. If there’s no emotional connection, no why to the what or the who, then there’s no reason. To him, anyway. Besides, it’s not like he can afford companionship, what with the landlord hiking up rent. He’s strapped for cash enough as it is. And he doesn’t even want to think about what that would be like—sex with someone while Venom chats away in his head, drowning out any other sound trying to get to his ears.

So Eddie suffers in silence. Every night, as he heads home, he’ll spot the same couple sucking face right outside the dispensary, the scent of weed seeping into his clothes and the sickly, stupid, almost juvenile excitement he gets from it all the same. He’ll get home and put on a movie, and there they are again, man and woman, undressing each other in a dimly lit kitchen, his large hand pushing up under her skirt until all else is left to the imagination and the film, only PG-13, fades to black. No action, and yet he’s warm, hyperaware of his dick, just a little sweaty where his hairline stops.

Eddie watches the pink sliver of the man’s tongue as it pushes past her lips, and suddenly he’s thinking about kissing Anne, but not the way they used to. The kiss in the woods, the deep, dark one that seemed to pull his soul with it. The kiss that involved a third party. The kiss he’s been desperate to forget, or at least compartmentalize in his head until it’s just the two of them, him and Anne, sharing a sensual, passionate kiss at night in the middle of the woods after she bit a guy’s head off—

God, he’s fucked, already fidgeting and past the point of no return. Wetting his dry lips with a flick of his tongue, the heel of his hand pushes against his growing arousal, which briefly dulls the throb but only makes him harder. A pleasant hum rings through his body like the whine of a violin, threatening to pull him taut.

His fingertips begin to slide under the waistband of his sweats.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Eddie jolts nearly out of his skin and wrenches his hand free. “Jeeeesus Christ, can a guy get an  _ ounce _ of privacy? What does it look like I’m doing?”

I DON’T KNOW. THAT’S WHY I ASKED. 

The usual rasp of Venom’s voice is gone, smoothed out for a much softer timbre despite the consistent baritone.  _ Innocence _ . Venom has never seen something like this before, skipped out on the birds-and-the-bees lesson entirely in favor of taking a page from the marital lifestyle of a praying mantis.

(Biting off heads doesn’t exactly do it for Eddie, but every once in a while, late at night when Venom’s quiet, he can’t help but wonder.)

“Do you really not know?” he asks, careful, and he senses something like an indignant huff, the raising of hackles inside, before Venom relaxes. Eddie feels a twitch in his shoulders—Venom is shrugging.

I’VE ONLY KNOWN YOU.

Eddie ponders, not sure where to start or why he’s bothering to explain the mechanics of jerking off to an alien goo blob from space. But he’s already all too aware of how much Venom complains when Eddie doesn’t explain human things, and if he doesn’t get it out of the way now, Eddie might never get off, ever again, in his whole, already miserable life.

“It’s, well,” he begins, eyes darting with nothing to look at, “it’s part of the… reproductive process.”

SO WILL YOU DO THIS AND THEN DIVIDE YOURSELF INTO SMALLER EDDIES?

Eddie stifles a surprised laugh. “No! No, it’s… What? No. We’re mammals. Warm-blooded. We do it with another person.”

THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE. 

“That was going to be my next point.” Eddie sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Unbelievable. I’m having The Talk with an alien that lives inside me and eats tater tots.”

YOU THINK THAT’S STRANGE. 

“Because it is.”

WELL I THINK  _ YOUR  _ RITUALS ARE DOWNRIGHT BATSHIT. YOU DO REPRODUCTIVE THINGS WHEN YOU’RE NOT REPRODUCING. YOU SET DEAD THINGS ON FIRE AND EAT THEM WHEN THEY’RE PERFECTLY DELICIOUS RAW. THAT IS WHAT’S STRANGE HERE. 

Eddie lies back into the sofa cushions and squints at the ceiling as if Venom is up there. “I think we’re getting off track.”

BUT WHY DO YOU DO IT?

Eddie raises his brows and makes a face. “It feels good. That’s really all there is to it.”

Venom goes quiet for a moment, to the point that Eddie can actually hear himself think. His gaze returns to the television, where the couple previously getting it on are now idling in bed, naked, covered by strategically placed sheets.

Venom’s voice nearly startles Eddie out of his own body,  _ again _ , when he says, dark and rough,

SHOW ME. 

Just a few months ago, if someone had told Eddie he’d be interrupted by an alien in his head while trying to rub one out, he’d say they were nuts. More so if they’d gone on to say the alien would want to watch. Crazier still if they’d added that Eddie would, for even a second, entertain the notion.

But that’s exactly what he does, because unless he wants to be celibate for the rest of his life, he’ll have to explain this now. Before anything, Eddie counts to ten in his head and wonders how he got here, why  _ him _ , what he ever did to deserve this fucked-up level of weirdness.

COME ON, EDDIE! YOU SAID IT FEELS GOOD. 

“All right, all right,” Eddie sighs, making himself comfortable with a frustrated hurriedness. “You want a show? I’ll give you a show, ya bastard…”

Before he knows it, Eddie is pushing his hand back into his sweats. Venom’s watching, as much as a second consciousness can “watch,” and the odd half-voyeurism sends a flush from his cheeks up to his ears. He shuts his eyes and thinks of Anne, pinning him to the mattress with a hand on his chest and another securing his wrists together. She sits in his lap, and hey, Dan’s in the daydream too. Why not? Dan’s a nice guy, attractive, and he makes Anne happy, so Eddie’s happy. Eddie curls his fingers over his cock, the places he knows well that always get him going. Anne bends down over him with that sultry gleam in her eye as her palm, mimicking his own, slides across his navel and takes hold of him. Her lips brush his, teasing, withholding, then bruising, consuming him all at once. Eddie twitches in his own hand when her long tongue fills his mouth and slides down his throat—

Eddie jolts out of the fantasy.

“ _ Venom! _ ”

His chest heaves but his mouth is empty, though his cheeks burn and he’s still half hard.  _ That  _ is real.

WHAT?

“Don’t play innocent with me, I can  _ hear _ you smiling.”

YOU FELT LIKE YOU WERE HAVING A GOOD TIME.

“I  _ was _ ,” Eddie grumbles. “Let me concentrate.”

SOUNDS LIKE A LOT OF WORK FOR SOMETHING THAT’S SUPPOSED TO FEEL NICE. 

“Yeah, well, Anne says a little more self love could do me good, and that’s work,” Eddie says. He sighs, holding his dick, wondering if it’s worth it to try again. But he hasn’t flagged despite the altered fantasy.

SELF LOVE? Venom asks pensively.

Eddie nods, brow twitching. “Yeah, I—”

SOUNDS FUN. WE WANT TO TRY. 

“You—what—?”

The black veins are already creeping from his wrist into his fingertips, forcibly pulling Eddie’s hand away from his cock. His hand shakes from resistance.

Eddie whines, pathetic, watching his own body lose control. “Aw, man, c’mon...”

Venom shoves Eddie’s hand into the sofa cushion, then does the same with the other, pinning his arms with a strength he should probably be fighting. He grips the upholstery just as he feels Venom swirl inside him, rise to the surface, that slick, wet sensation like he’s sweating far too much as the black bleeds thick from his skin.

“Just wanted a normal day, just wanted to jack off in peace...”

DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE STILL TRYING FOR NORMALCY. THAT SHIT’S BORING. DON’T BE A PUSSY.

“Just because you have a point doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Venom laughs in his head, deep and vast. Something about it is soothing, like a low-magnitude earthquake.

Eddie’s not exactly sure what he’s afraid of, if he can call this feeling fear. He knows Venom wouldn’t hurt him—Venom needs him to survive, has apparently come to like him so he says, and Eddie wouldn’t say he hasn’t been somewhat charmed by the symbiote—so maybe it’s different, maybe it’s his dignity. Maybe in all this weird, gross, creepy shit he’s gotten himself into, which has now consumed the better part of his life, a small piece of him had hoped he’d be able to at least jerk off without it turning into a freaky alien sex thing.

Apparently that was too much to ask.

Venom’s presence, his touch, isn’t immediate. Eddie senses a small amount of hesitance, though he moves, seemly curious of places yet unexplored, a lot of it focused around his dick. Something hand-shaped ripples under the skin of his stomach and passes up his shirt and hoodie. Another hand-shaped sensation at his waist. Then another grasping the curve of his ass, and another stroking the small of his back, and another pushing his legs to slack apart, and Jesus Christ, there are hands  _ all over him, possibly dozens _ . Eddie finds himself unconsciously arching his body into those hands as if he could press harder into them, forgetting that the hands are inside him, directly touching his nerves, slowly licking him with flames, taking him apart piece by piece, cell by cell.

If he dissolves into nothing but a cloud of heat and sweet, slow, indulgent pleasure, Eddie doesn’t think that’s really a bad way to go.

It’s the first touch to the base of Eddie’s cock that has him tucking chin to chest with a tremulous gasp and bucking his hips up to chase the pleasure. “Shit…!” he sucks through his teeth. With nothing else to do, trapped, his fingers tighten into the sofa cushions. Peering through his lashes from heavy lids, he sees a black web of tendrils winding and curling around the base of his shaft. Venom stays there, saying nothing, keeping still, until some of the warmth fades.

“You can’t just hold it. You have to move—”

Venom snaps, YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?

“That’s exactly what I think,” Eddie says. He’s still a touch hazy, but there’s something sweet and charming about Venom’s lack of experience, even if he disguises it by being an asshole. “It’s okay, you’re learning,” he adds. “Just go up and down, like I did.”

EDDIE.

“Yeah?”

STOP TALKING. 

A buzz of dangerous excitement lights up Eddie’s nervous system like a whole damn Christmas tree, like the hum of a neon sign in the quiet rain, the fear of a lightning strike eclipsed by awe for the subliminal, earthly tremor of thunder’s echo. He smirks, lazy.

“Make me.”

When Venom purrs, the vibration radiates through his veins, his muscles and bones, his pores, the chambers of his heart, as if a satisfied lion were not merely sitting on his chest but residing in his ribcage.

Venom starts to move on his dick, twisting and curling and pulling and Jesus Holy Shit if he doesn’t nearly come right there. More tendrils of Venom wrap around the rest of him, curious and eager. He manages to contour his wet, slippery being around every square millimeter of the skin of his cock, which Eddie never thought  _ possible _ , and it’s so good that for a solid moment he forgets how to breathe, shallow air catching in his throat, stopping at his teeth and tongue. A butter-soft “ohhh fuck” leaves him before he can stop it.

With an almost-there shudder, Eddie writhes and shuts his legs tight, but Venom pries them back open all too easily, his veins turning dark when Venom puppeteers his body. PRETTY EDDIE, WANT TO SEE, Venom rumbles, and  _ that  _ sends a hot flush to his whole face. Under Eddie’s sweats, more of Venom emerges from his body, slithering down to his sac and squeezing until Eddie’s head lolls back over the sofa and his hips cant into the air, useless but so so good when orgasm hits like a destructive force of nature, clearing all else in its path. His arms are still locked to the sofa but the rest of him trembles for what seems like minutes. He doesn’t realize he’s released the most pitiful, liquid moan of his life until he faintly hears the banging fist of his nextdoor neighbor telling him to keep it down.

Venom’s purr is  _ deafening _ .

YOU DIDN’T TELL ME IT WAS FOOD, EDDIE.

Eddie blinks through a daze, bleary, nearly about to come again as that monstrous pink tongue licks up the last splatters of come from his stomach, lighting his gut on fire once more. And since they’re connected, he can somewhat taste himself on his own tongue. Eddie’s brow ticks.

“Food?”

YOUR ORGANIC MATTER, Venom murmurs, loud in his head. DELICIOUS. FUEL. 

Eddie thinks about that for a second, frowning, pushing himself back up now that he has some control of his arms again. “You mean to tell me we’ve been biting heads off to sustain you when we could’ve just been jerkin’ it at home?”

YOU’RE TELLING ME, Venom says, sounding like he’s laughing. IT’S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH TO KEEP ME GOING. IT’S MORE LIKE… A SNACK.

“Did you just call me a snack?”

TO SUSTAIN ME FOR A FULL DAY, I WOULD NEED MUCH MORE. I WOULD NEED TO DO THIS FOR MANY HOURS. 

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat as his mind is suddenly flooded with images of Venom milking him for hours on end, all day, every day, every waking hour, using his body as a toy of endless pleasure and food. He squirms, bites the inside of his lip. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . Part of Eddie thinks he might not hate that.

YOU LIKE THAT.

Eddie tosses his head clear. “Not happening.” He shakily gets off the sofa and steps into the kitchen while adjusting his sweats. “I’ll make you some tots.”

YOU TASTE BETTER THAN TATER TOTS, EDDIE.

“I bet you say that to all the hosts.”

Eddie makes it to the fridge when his feet begin to slide back. He grasps for the nearest wall, but his fingers don’t make it, and he backpedals to keep from falling over. Like a puppet master, Venom pulls Eddie to his bedroom around the corner, throws him to the mattress in the blink of an eye.

“Jesus, take me to dinner first.”

He can taste Venom’s smile as he says, EDDIE. YOU  _ ARE  _ DINNER. 

Eddie shudders and says, “Oh.”

A minute later, Eddie’s hands are bound above his head to the bed frame by solid ink because he won’t stop trying to interfere by touching himself, and Venom hates being interrupted when he’s feeding. He doesn’t have to be told or forced to keep his legs apart—he just does, letting them fall open when Venom’s touch slithers up his thighs. Venom hasn’t shed Eddie’s clothes, which is making him sweat with overwhelming heat.

A curious tendril curls around the tip of Eddie’s dick, and it takes all his strength not to look desperate by pushing his body up against it.

WHAT DO WE HAVE TO DO TO TASTE MORE OF YOU? Venom asks him, a rumble that pillows his whole head with cotton.

Eddie sends him a few mental images of porn he’s watched, things he’s done with Anne, things Anne has done to him, stuff he did in college and after, before Anne. He thinks Venom has enough to work with, but he senses Venom travel up the side of his neck, and then it feels like Venom is whispering right into his ear.

WHAT DO YOU WANT, EDDIE?

“Hah-” Eddie gasps, gooseflesh prickling his skin. “Y-you’ve ticked a few boxes already—”

WHAT DO YOU  _ WANT _ , EDDIE?

His breath comes in shallow pants. That goddamn touch on his dick, delicate to the point of near-torture, is making his head fuzzy. He struggles uselessly against the binding on his hands, desperate to touch himself, alleviate the sensations, knowing Venom won’t allow him—wants to do this himself.

Eddie swallows a moan. His cheeks burn bright, hot splotches of pink littering his face and ears and neck and probably other parts of him.

“Want you to fill me,” Eddie murmurs. “To the brim. All of me. Everywhere. Take as much as you want.”

In retrospect, it’s a dangerous thing to say. But it seems to satisfy Venom, who purrs and licks a soft stripe along Eddie’s earlobe. Eddie writhes and squirms and his dick twitches, eager, dark and red when he looks down up until Venom coats it with himself again, a constantly moving mass of slimy wet  _ amazing _ . Hands are on his waist again, real ones black and clawed and attached to the massive upper body form of Venom, sprouting from his own body to take hold of him. Milky white slits gleam with excitement, that permanent sharp smile curled into something almost terrifying, and Eddie is a little afraid of what Venom might do to him—turn him into—make him want. It seems there’s no limit to how much Venom can grow, which has Eddie nervous and excited all at once to anticipate how much Venom will truly fill him.

Venom holds Eddie against the mattress until his joints and muscles ache, and then suddenly they don’t, like he’s been dosed. Eddie gets a bit fuzzy from it, the pain and relief circling one another in a dance. He almost comes, but Venom keeps him steady, a thin tendril tight around his base. Eddie stills his body in an attempt to relax, and it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. He hands himself over.

GOOD BOY.

“Ven—” he gasps, the praise going straight to his dick, his head, his cheeks, and his mouth drops open with a full-body shudder. Through the haze, he nearly doesn’t feel the  _ something _ —fuck it,  _ tentacle— _ having found a hole to fill a little below his dick.

Eddie lets out a whine from somewhere deep in his throat that he’s never heard himself make.

“Vee, you can’t just…” A tendril lovingly caresses the head of his cock, and he loses his train of thought for a moment. “Can’t just go in there…”

Eddie feels Venom hesitate.

WHY NOT?

“Gonna hurt. That place is, uh. Um. Not usually open for business until you work at it. Tight.” Eddie’s cursing himself now. His lube is in the fucking bathroom cabinet, having not been used in ages. Venom seems to catch his drift, however, sliding over him gently.

LIKE WHEN WE GIVE YOU MASSAGES WHEN YOU ARE TENSE.

Eddie sighs. “Yes. Like that. ‘Cept you’ll have to— _ fuck— _ ”

Venom decides to slip a bit of his form past the first ring and inside, smaller than even a finger. It’s strange, and—for lack of a better word,  _ alien.  _ He usually doesn’t have much sensation in there, but maybe because Venom is involved, tapped into his mind, both of them feeling each other, maybe he’s more acutely aware of the sensation.

“O-or you can completely ignore me,” Eddie says. “That’s fine, too.”

GOT THIS, EDDIE. GOT YOU. GOT US.

“Oh, you do, huh?”

Venom licks his cheek. JUST BE QUIET AND STAY PUT.

Eddie’s pulse quickens. He gulps.

“I thought I told you to make me.”

Needle-sharp teeth scratch the skin of Eddie’s jugular.

WE INTEND TO.

The tendril in his ass starts to thicken, ever so slightly. It would be uncomfortable if not for the fact that Venom seems to be dulling his pain, working right into his nervous system to wash it away. It’s that same drugged-up feeling he had before, when Venom pressed him down, and soon Eddie is melting into a mess on his mattress, a sense of bliss, almost numb.

“Vee,” he mumbles, “Vee. Too much.”

TOO MUCH WHAT?

“Whatever you’re doing to make me feel it less,” Eddie says. “Dial it back. Can’t feel you.”

BUT WE WILL HURT YOU.

Eddie’s heart does a little flip in his chest, something warm and instinctual he can’t describe. “I can take it,” he says. “‘Sides, I like a little pain. You should’ve seen me with Anne. That woman’s got a dark side.” He unintentionally sends mental memories of Anne using toys on him, holding him down, making him beg.

WE LIKE ANNE, Venom says. But he squeezes Eddie’s dick enough to make his legs jerk. BUT YOU ARE MINE.

“Yep,” Eddie whines, barely realizing he says it. “M’all yours, Vee.”

The numbing sensation pulls away, and it’s like stepping into a cool shower. He doesn’t have to look down to feel it, but he does anyway—Venom has grown wider and has been moving, working slowly into him, just so. Like a massage—a weird, kinky kind of internal massage. Jesus. Venom’s infecting his mind, and he’s oddly here for it.

The stretch does hurt, just a bit, but the wonders Venom is doing on his ass and his dick are sort of overriding anything else. Though his hands are still bound over his head, Eddie attempts to respond with a careful roll forward, digging his heels into the mattress so he can ride the slithery appendage that’s somehow  _ everywhere, _ filling every part of his lower body, surrounding his sac and his shaft up to the head, which Venom has realized is a sensitive spot.

“C’mon, Vee,” Eddie murmurs, “c’mon. I can take it.”

Venom says nothing, opting for action. That fucking  _ tongue  _ unfurls to assault the head of his dick, and it takes all Eddie has to keep from breaking his own headboard. The friction inside him gets white-hot, working him open wider at a faster pace, and god, it’s not giving him a break. Venom’s not teasing him anymore—he’s  _ attacking,  _ giving Eddie everything he wanted but didn’t want to admit to dreaming for, everything he’d told himself he shouldn’t desire. He tries to ride him again but Venom holds his hips down to the mattress with clawed hands.

When Venom hits his prostate dead-on, Eddie sobs, struggles, he might be crying, who knows. Someone next door bangs on his wall again, but Eddie can’t bring himself to give a shit. Venom seems like he’s asking what he did to get Eddie to sound like that, but Eddie only trembles and rushes into his second orgasm. He shoves his mouth against his own inner arm, trying and failing to muffle the string of moans he can’t seem to stop.

He’s coming, coming, and Venom is still moving on his dick, inside him. “Venom, Vee, stop, stop,” he mumbles, pushing at him, but Venom refuses to let up as he drinks up every bit of Eddie and milks him for more. Venom gives him another dose of whatever that is—some sort of alien aphrodisiac?—to dull the pain of overstimulation, and Eddie can’t help but sink into the mattress and let Venom do what he wants.

“At least give me my hands back,” he grumbles.

Venom’s form retreats from the headboard and slides delicately over his wrists. Eddie lowers his arms to get circulation back into them. He curls his fingers around the black tendrils of Venom that quiver and respond to him in kind, and he’s suddenly filled with a sensation that threatens to bring a different set of tears to his eyes.

Eddie affectionately rubs a thumb over Venom’s little tendrils, which Vee seems to like.

GORGEOUS, Venom says, so softly it’s almost an echo of a word. Nevertheless, Eddie kisses the little black strings at his wrist, and a sense of happiness floods his rib cage.

“All right,” he says, “don’t go too nuts with the snacking or you’ll ruin your appetite.”

MORE.

“Vee...”

WE’LL MAKE IT GOOD.

It was already fucking amazing, which Eddie refuses to say aloud. Half of him, the half that’s still sensible, says they should stop here, quit while they’re ahead, leave the rest of their adventuring to another time. The other half of him is far too curious to know what Venom means by “making it good.”

EDDIE.

Eddie frowns and rolls his eyes. It’s like dealing with a child. “ _ One _ more round, and that’s it.”

Venom tenderly flips Eddie over onto his stomach. Eddie hikes himself up onto his knees, but Venom shoves him back down, trapping his dick mercilessly against the sheets, locking his lower back in a deep curve. It doesn’t take much to get him hard again, what with Venom working his way back inside him like he was made to be there, slotting so perfectly into his body. Eddie sighs, shudders, lets go.

YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO BE FILLED COMPLETELY.

He  _ did  _ say that.  _ He said that?  _ Eddie doesn’t remember when his pornographic persona emerged, but if he doesn’t have to say it  _ again _ , he’ll take it. He just nods, burying half his face into the sheets.

SAY IT.

_ So much for keeping the last shreds of his dignity. _

And Eddie  _ would _ be a little shit about it, normally, talk back and refuse to say it again because he already said it once, but Venom’s working him open so perfectly, wrapped around him so snugly, constantly moving and shifting so that he’s perpetually stimulated but hardly gets relief, only when Venom wants him to. Venom is keeping him there, right where he wants him, unraveling Eddie like a sweater that never got enough love.

“Want you to fill me,” Eddie gasps finally.

GOOD EDDIE.

“Oh, holy shit,” Eddie moans when Venom fills him deeper, farther than he ever thought possible. Venom seems to harden a little inside him, somewhat adapting to the close shape of Eddie’s own cock, but thicker, hotter, and jesus,  _ flexible, _ like it’s finding new ways to twist and writhe and curl against all his sweet spots. His fingers curl into the sheets near his head. His lower body writhes in the air, twisting to meet Venom’s relentless, perfect thrusts.

When Eddie turns his head in the sheets, he’s met with Venom’s face emerging from a spot in his shoulder. His tongue lolls out and Eddie instinctively parts his lips. There’s not much of a taste besides a bit of salt, but it’s wet, slick, and filling up his throat. Eddie gags, until he doesn’t, when Venom takes away his gag reflex. Having a symbiote who can make small alterations to your body is pretty handy, but now Eddie can take Venom so far that tears spring up in his eyes.

Eddie lets out a muffled groan that echoes into Venom and reverberates back to him in an endless cycle. Venom’s tongue fills up every space in his throat, the rest of him so far up into his body that he thinks he might be able to see the tips of his tendrils behind his eyes, and more of him giving Eddie the best non-hand handjob blowjob  _ Venom _ job he’s ever had in his whole fucking life, hot, twisting, never stopping. It’s not for Venom’s own pleasure—it’s  _ his,  _ it’s  _ theirs _ .

LOOK AT US, Venom purrs, admiring his work. Eddie doesn’t pay much mind and keeps his focus on getting wholly and totally spitroasted by Venom. But then Venom taps into his head, shows him what Eddie looks like now, and Eddie could finish off right there. His back twists with his writhing. His hands claw desperately at the sheets in front of him, pulling them uselessly closer. He sees Venom’s tendrils sliding tenderly over his neck and his back and all over the rest of him, as well as Venom’s tongue and tentacles both fucking him now with hard, reckless abandon. 

SO PRETTY.

He can see his own face through Venom’s vision: cheeks flushed, eyes dazed, brow twisted with pleasure, lips shiny and red with abuse. Eddie moans, wanton, useless, around the thick of Venom’s tongue. When Venom slowly withdraws it, Eddie gasps for air, can already hear how wrecked his voice has become.

Inside him, Venom prods deeper but grows thicker in the shallow places to hit is prostate, knowing where it is now and hitting it with such precision that Eddie shakes. “Oh fuck,” he sobs, “right there, shit, Vee, don’t stop—”

Eddie hardly registers the under-the-skin feeling as Venom creeps into his lower body, the way he does when he’s exploring Eddie’s insides.

And then he feels it.

Venom’s touching his prostate, but not prodding, not rubbing up against his walls—Venom is  _ in  _ him, wrapped around his entire prostate with direct contact,  _ pulsating _ . His eyes fly open wide. It’s overwhelming, everywhere, a pleasure so sharp and visceral that he comes harder than ever against the sheets under his body and whites out with nothing short of a pitiful scream and a stream of four-letter words, “ _ Holy fuck fuck fuck Vee I can’t I can’t— _ ”

When Eddie comes to, prostrate and boneless, Venom is a sticky black puddle all over the lower half of his body, seeping into the sheets and seeming to rise and fall as he cleans him up. Eddie takes a mental log of his name, his birthdate, what year it is now, and finds them through a pleasant warm fog. He can’t move.

“You there, Vee?” he croaks.

He’s met with silence.

“Venom?”

WE DID NOT KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN.

“Didn’t know you would  _ do  _ that,” Eddie says. “Give a guy some warning before you rock his world.” He squints, trying to move, finding himself so fucked out and exhausted that soon enough he gives up. “What time is it?”

DON’T KNOW. DON’T CARE.

“Helpful.” Judging by the darkness through the curtains, it’s still night. He runs his hands through the inky tendrils that weave between his fingers, holding his hand, barely holding solid form. “Come back in, big softie,” he mumbles. “I think you need a recharge.”

ON THE CONTRARY. WE FEEL VERY ALIVE.

“We do, huh?” Eddie snorts. “Good for you. _I_ feel like I could sleep for a few hundred years.”

DON’T DO THAT.

“I’m done explaining shit to you.”

Still dead-tired, Eddie slowly tugs his clothes back on with a little help from Venom, who’s even so courteous as to pull the sheets over him, and yeah, he probably does need a few hundred years of sleep. A purring sound echoes in the back of his head as Venom sinks back into his body, disappearing beneath the skin until it’s just Eddie.

But it’s not just Eddie. Never  _ just  _ Eddie anymore.

And he’s perfectly okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sorry


End file.
